


Abuse of Power Comes as No Surprise

by Venturous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-23
Updated: 2009-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-13 05:39:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/133575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venturous/pseuds/Venturous





	Abuse of Power Comes as No Surprise

  
  
  
  
**Entry tags:**   
|   
[2009](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/hp_april_fools/tag/2009), [fic](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/hp_april_fools/tag/fic), [harry/ginny](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/hp_april_fools/tag/harry/ginny), [nc-17](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/hp_april_fools/tag/nc-17), [snape/harry](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/hp_april_fools/tag/snape/harry)  
  
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_**April Fools,[](http://synn.insanejournal.com/profile)[ **synn**](http://synn.insanejournal.com/)!**_  
 **Title:** Abuse of Power Comes as No Surprise  
 **Recipient:** [](http://synn.insanejournal.com/profile)[**synn**](http://synn.insanejournal.com/)  
 **Author:** [](http://venturous.insanejournal.com/profile)[**venturous**](http://venturous.insanejournal.com/)  
 **Word Count:** about 5,400  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Pairing(s):** Severus/Harry, the briefest mention of Harry/Ginny  
 **Warning(s):** EWE, mindfuck, bdsm, noncon, intentional cruelty, blow job, glimpses of torture, sort of a cliff-hanger...  
 **Disclaimer:** any recognizable characters don't belong to me; I am just borrowing them for entertainment.  
 **A/N** Synn, you asked for Harry/Snape bdsm among other things, and I aim to please. You also asked for "dirty but loving scenes" and I fear I may have skated near the edge here. But I assure you, love is very much involved.  
 **Acknowledgments** Our Dear Mod pre_raphaelite1 deserves a medal for putting up with my whinging and excuses, and giving me copious extensions. (And a special prize for telling me "Now! or ELSE!" ) In spite of all the writerly angst this has really been fun, enlightening, and the fest a wonderful treat. I can tell you this: my respect for and admiration of writers has soared as I discovered how difficult it really is to make good fic. Writers, I doff my feathered cap to you all with much gratitude for all the pleasure you give us.

Many thanks to my helpful beta-readers T, C and C. I'd also like to thank RL friend C for her professional advice. All of you made a huge and unwieldy epic!plot-bunny (somewhat!) manageable.

Thanks to Synn for the opportunity to explore some squicky territory and really enjoy it. If the muse permits, there will be more to the tale.

  


 _Abuse of Power Comes as No Surprise  
~Jenny Holzer_

  
I had such hopeless desire for you  
til I saw how your light yearned for me too.  
I pushed and pushed til I saw it was you  
who had already drawn me to every good thing that I knew.  
~Rumi  


  
 **Abuse of Power Comes as No Surprise**

The sea was wild and the sky grey and the great Rock loomed malevolently above the troubled sea, towering over the clawing waves. The three Thestrals circled the vast meadow that spread across the crown of the Rock, preparing to land atop the highest turret. Several Ministry officials awaited , and Harry was surprised that Warden Robards himself bustled out greet him, pumping his arm effusively. After a quick briefing about security procedures, Harry was shown to his quarters in the high tower. "Take some time to get settled," the warden smiled hollowly, "and I will see you for dinner at half-seven."

As he unpacked, Harry shook his head. He looked around at the high tower room, strangely reminiscent of Hogwarts, and wondered: _How in Hades did I end up in Azkaban?_.

**** earlier****

"You wanted to see me, Minister?" Harry looked around Kingsley's grand office and saw both Percy and Arthur Weasley. Percy, the Ministry press secretary, was perfectly suited to his job wrangling both Wizarding and Muggle press. But it was unusual to see the elder Weasley. Rumour had it that, as Vice-Minister, Arthur worked mainly with the Unspeakables Division. But of course, he couldn't really talk about it.

Kingsley began, "Harry, as I am sure you know, the Ministry is suffering terrible damage to its public image over the issue of the Azkaban ReEducation Facility. You might think that doing away with the Dementors would have garnered us some good will, but five years after the war, we still have an outdated prison full of former Voldemort supporters, and most of the wizarding world and many Muggles are clamoring for us to release these-" he paused "- 'political prisoners'. As if this were not bad enough, someone is leaking exaggerated information and claiming that we condone the torture of detainees. We thought that over time, everyone would move on and recover from the war _forget about those lowlifes out there on that miserable rock_ ..."

Harry realized he was hearing the unspoken thoughts behind Kingsley's words. _Well, THIS is interesting,_ he thought, and leaned in.

"... but now we have a group of lawyers from Durmstrang _and apparently some do-gooder Veelas from Beauxbatons_ stirring up public sympathy and trying to force us to release those terrorists!"

"But they're Death Eaters!'' Harry blurted out, noting the amusement on Percy's smug face. _He thinks I am a simpleton._

"Exactly. I would certainly prefer to close the facility. Who wouldn't? Azkaban is not a wholesome place, but the criminals safely housed there have become hardened, seething with hatred for the Ministry. It is our great concern that many of these detainees could rekindle pro-Voldemort sympathies and organize anti-Ministry factions if they are merely set free."

"So how can I be of help?" Harry asks, scratching his stubbly chin. His less-than-stellar performance as an Auror had resulted in a paper-pushing job in an airless room. He certainly would welcome an opportunity to work on something more interesting. _But why me?_

He had long ago stopped expecting challenging assignments, which he suspected was Arthur's attempt to keep his son-in-law safe and close to home for his daughter's pleasure. Harry sighed. He hadn't slept well again last night. Ginny was clamoring for a baby, this had taken a toll on his performance in the marriage bed.

Kingsley continued, "Harry, we are sending you to Azkaban to spearhead a new organization, an advanced counter-terrorism unit. With you involved, the public will go along with this somewhat radical idea. We want you to work with the Warden and his Re-Education department to retrain the former Death Eaters to join the Ministry's UnSpeakables program. We think it best if we keep these people under Ministry scrutiny. For their protection, of course."

Harry looked at his father-in-law, who smiled and nodded. "We think that Severus Snape could be the right man to lead it. You are to team up with him to direct this effort."

"I have great faith in you, Harry." Kingsley flashed his best campaign smile. "I have no doubt you are exactly the right man for this mission."

Harry resisted the urge to laugh out loud at this preposterous bit of flattery. He was quite sure they considered him an idiot when it came to politics, and that he was being used as a pawn in some larger game. Well, at least he wouldn't be bored. And he could briefly escape from the endless cock-raising charms of his insatiable wife.

***

A bit later, one of his thuggish guards fetched him and led him to the formal dining room, where the warden introduced Harry to his senior staff.

An owlish man to the warden's left introduced himself. "Alastor Gumboil, Director of Re-Education. A very great honor to meet you, Mr. Potter." The man struck Harry as more of a soldier than an educator; he could feel this place was seething with secrets. He tuned his mind to that subtle channel, the one that noticed all the mismatched data, the dissonance between words, inflection, expression and behavior. _Well, this gets more intriguing at every turn,_ he thought.

Over dinner, the warden introduced various administrators and senior guards, each of whom explained their roles in the operation of the facility. _They seem a pretty dull lot. Do none of them have any life apart from their jobs?_

Eventually the discussion turned to the prisoners. Snape, apparently, was a model prisoner. In contrast, an unrepentant Lucius Malfoy was held in top security hall under extreme lockdown. "Malfoy is thought to be the ringleader of ongoing Death Eater insurgence." The warden looked at Harry over his teacup. "Although, we have yet to figure out how information gets to and from him, as we keep him in our highly-shielded maximum security tower."

"That's one convict that will never be rehabilitated," muttered the Re-education minister. _...especially if I have anything to do with it!_ Harry heard, but not aloud. _That's interesting. I can hear his thoughts, too._

The coffees arrived, and Harry inquired "So, tell me about Snape."

"Ah, Severus." The warden exhaled, folding hands and leaning back. "Such an interesting man. Brilliant, of course. But can he be trusted? The Minister and I are quite hopeful that you will be able to work with him." He sipped his coffee, eyeing Harry appraisingly. "Of course, you are the perfect man for the job, with your background."

Harry squirmed a bit. His history with Snape was difficult and antagonistic at best. And aside from slaying a Dark Lord he had never excelled at much. Schoolwork, Auror training, even being a husband he felt mediocre at best. What could they possibly expect? Of course, Kingsley and Arthur had been sucking up to him as well. Clearly they had plans for him that they weren't sharing.

"Here is an outline of our hopes for the new program. It is designed to resettle the detainees in such a way that they will not join Malfoy's ranks or organize against Ministry authority. We think that most of the rank and file DEs will accept Snape as a leader. So, we've arranged your first meeting with him for tomorrow at half-ten." Robards slid a ream of documents across to Harry. _This man is a bit harder to read,_ he noted. "In the meanwhile, is there anything else you need to make yourself at home?"

"Not a thing, sir. And I have plenty of reading to catch up on." He smiled, and understanding himself to be thoroughly dismissed, stood, shook the warden's hand, accepted the bundle of documents, and bowed modestly on his way out.

****

The high towers of Azkaban really did remind Harry of Hogwarts, although the stone was rougher, darker. There were fewer details and flourishes, but the stone portals had a similar monumental presence. He wondered who had built this place, and how long ago.

Surrounded as it was by the wild sea, wind and light were intense. Even at night the water cast its rippling bluish light onto the vaulted ceilings. The scent of the salt wet rock was ever present. In his turret room, Harry heard the constant roar of waves. But now and again, underneath that sound he swore he heard a wailing cry. Though when he went to the window the wind nearly blew his glasses off, and any small sounds were swept away by the ocean of moving air.

Cognac in hand, sitting by the fire, Harry reviewed the stacks of documents. He knew much of the story, but some of the details he still found shockingly painful to read. The torment that Snape had endured under Voldemort was beyond imagining. _How could anyone live through that and remain sane, much less functional?_ He read on, bitter that for all the effort he had put into Snape's trial, the man still ended up sentenced to Azkaban.

But soon the sound of the wind and the warmth of the fire relaxed him, and he fell to sleep before the moon rose.

*****

"Mr. Potter. What a pleasant surprise." Snape held the heavy wooden door as if he'd opened it himself, ignoring the guard's clanking keys. His polite and conciliatory tone struck Harry as odd. Harry shook the man's hand and followed him into the room.

Severus's quarters were, truth be told, not all that distinguishable from the dungeons at Hogwarts. Walls lined with books, shelves crowded with jars and vials, a fireplace and a cauldron, and the air redolent with odd herbal scents all evoked memories of the potions lab. Harry settled in the proffered chair.

"Thank you for meeting with me, Professor. I am glad to see you looking well." Harry studied the man across from him. Snape hadn't changed all that much in the past five years. If anything, he looked healthier. He still wore high collars, though not the finest silk, and his robes were of coarser wool with fewer buttons. But his bearing was still as elegant as ever. There he sat with spine straight, one leg folded carefully over the other, hands steepled before him. Harry found himself staring at the man's long, elegant fingers.

"No doubt Warden Robards mentioned my coming to see you."

Snape looked momentarily puzzled, then said brightly, "Why of course, Mr. Potter, I have been looking forward to our _tête-à-tête_." Harry listened for the mocking tone he had been expecting. Something was not right here. Mentally, he leaned in closer, pressing against the boundaries of Snape's consciousness. "Would you care for some tea?" Harry nodded.

Snape asked Harry some predictable questions about how he fared after the war, all absent the expected edge of derision. Harry made polite inquiries in return, asking Snape about how he filled his time. The older man laughed - laughed! -- lightly, and noted that books and brewing kept him occupied, and the respite from teaching dunderheads was most welcome. At times he cleared his throat, sounding a bit hoarse, for which he apologized.

"I regret my voice is not accustomed to much use," he said, gesturing at his neck. "You see, I was severely injured in the war, and it's affected my speech a bit." His dark eyes were mild.

Harry's skin crawled. _Bloody hell!_ THIS was not the Severus Snape he remembered. Or, more accurately, this Severus did not appear to remember himself. The tea arrived, a house elf scurrying in as a guard unbolted the door. Snape smiled at the elf.

"Thank you, Esdee. That's lovely." Harry waited for elf and guard to withdraw, and the heavy door and bolt to click shut. It occurred to him that this did not actually guarantee them privacy, considering where they were, but he felt relieved just the same.

"So, Mr. Potter, how may I assist you?"

Harry ran his hand through his unruly hair. "Professor Snape, I truly regret that you have been unfairly imprisoned for all this time, and I would like to help you get out of this place. I've been asked to develop a post-Azkaban strategy for the Ministry, and I frankly am greatly in need of your insight and experience."

Snape hesitated, considering. "Potter, I know you did what you could at my trial. It matters not; I have earned my place in this world. As for helping the Ministry, well, I can't imagine what use a tired old Death Eater could possibly be to you." He smiled wanly, then fell silent.

Harry launched into an explanation of what he imagined his mission to be: that it was not just possible, but desirable to make use of all the intelligence of wizard kind in the effort to rebuild after the war; that Severus could be instrumental in seeing Azkaban closed for good; that restoring the good name of Slytherin House could even be furthered in the process; and they could accomplish a great healing for the Wizarding world. Severus stared at the floor and did not respond to anything Harry said.

"Professor?" Snape looked up and Harry gazed directly into his slack and open face. The experience was unnerving, but he held his gaze level with the Potions Master's dark eyes and felt himself sink into their depths. He shivered at as fleeting tendril of memory from the Shrieking Shack, but shook this off and pursued the present moment. Harry pressed into the man's mind, aware he was crossing some threshold, trespassing, as it were. He braced himself for the fierce Occlumency he expected and felt . . . nothing. _This can't be!_ Snape was so subdued, it was as if he wasn't even there. _What the hell?_

Harry pressed on. It was not quite like a Pensieve memory, but more random and dreamlike. Images floated by: pouring a potion through a filter into vials; pages of a book turning in hypnotic rhythm; the routine preparation of tea. He blushed when he 'saw' a naked Snape bathing, then methodically dressing for the day. But then, without warning searing pain swept through his limbs like a hot sword, and Harry cried out, breaking the reverie. Harry doubled over, retching, and was suddenly back in the book-lined room.

"Well, Mr. Potter, I do believe it's time for me to retire." Snape said without inflection. Before Harry had fully regained his senses he found himself at the door. He opened his mouth to ask about what happened, but instead found himself thanking Snape for his time, noting that he would return tomorrow.

***

That night, Harry did not sleep so readily. He ordered meals sent to his quarters and poured over the Ministry materials in detail again, reading Snape's file and everything he had on the Re-Education program, searching for clues about what might have happened to the Potions Master. The report described the heinous acts Snape had committed as a Death Eater and for which he was imprisoned, as well as the hideous torture he endured at the hands of Voldemort

Harry tried to recall what he had been thinking just before the blinding pain had struck him, and only had a flicker of an image of arms pulled cruelly back, and something slicing, burning. He shuddered, the sensation was still so vivid. In all his experience with Legilimency he had never come across such a thing: a painful experience without any context or concrete memory surrounding it. Harry had enough post-war therapy to know that healers used Legilimency to help people recover from trauma, especially which they had locked it away in their minds. But a Legilimens should be able to perceive the recorded experience with much more neutrality. He shouldn't get the direct sensory input, nor the traumatized emotion of the subject. Whatever this memory was, it had been interfered with.

But why would anyone want to alter Snape's memories? He knew that thoughts extracted for the Pensieve might dim in the original mind, but they were rarely gone all together. And he did not know of any process for destroying memories _in situ._ He'd experienced extracted memories that had been tinkered with, yes, but within a wizard's own mind? He was aghast. Who on earth would do such a thing? Snape was a barely a shell of his former self. Did they know this? They must. Why would the Ministry think he could get Snape to help him? Harry puzzled. _None of this makes any sense. Or worse,_ he shivered, _maybe it does._

Harry summoned another report from across the room, and was surprised when instead of flying into his hand, it slid haltingly to the edge of the table and then crashed to the floor. Getting up to fetch it, it occurred to him that there were multiple spells deployed here to dampen use of magic. Of course, there would be. But ugh, it felt awful, like being partly blind.

Was Snape's memory permanently damaged? He felt chilled, in spite of the fire. What could account for his vacuous demeanor? Had he been subjected to Dementors? Those fiendish things were made illegal after Sirius' escape brought them to the attention of the Wizarding public. Could the ministry still be secretly deploying them? Harry's chills did not abate.

Late in the night he finally fell into an uneasy sleep. In his dream, he was flying over the moonlit sea, pursued by shadowy figures who reached out to grasp for his billowing robes.

***

After breakfasting with the Warden, of whom he asked only a few careful questions in spite of his seething curiosity, Harry returned to Snape's quarters. When the door was bolted from the outside, he breathed a sigh and turned his attention to the wizard before him.

"Nice of you to visit again Potter." They sat across from one another by the unlit hearth, and Harry tuned into Severus' mind again, finding no resistance. He moved through layers of Snape's memories, searching for the hideous torture he had read about in Snape's dossier. This time he was prepared: he knew he would experience the memory as if it were his own. When he found it he had to fight to kept his focus.

He not only saw the room, badly lit by guttering candles, he could feel the fear. It was raising all the hairs on his skin as the shackles were tightened. He heard the whip whistling through the air a split second before he felt the burning strike. He felt his throat tighten, then nearly choke, trying not to scream. He startled as icy sea water doused him, stinging his eyes and wounds. He felt Snape fight to contract his consciousness to a tiny point, only to have this control wrenched away from him by a fresh assault.

All the details that were described in the dossier unfolded for Harry one by one, with a significant variation: it was not Voldemort delivering the torture. It was Warden Robards. And he saw Arthur Weasley witnessing the torture with obvious approval.

Harry erupted with fury, and then terror. _I can't believe the Ministry would condone this kind of treatment, much less instigate it!_ He reeled, feeling Snape's mind react to his strong emotion, and rapidly pulled out of the scene and back into the room. All light faded from Snape's eyes as he crumpled to the floor.

"Professor! Are you all right?" Harry knelt over him, peering into his face. The black eyes opened, blinked. _It feels so odd to be so close to this face. A face I know so well._ He studied the long nose and wondered how many times it has been broken. "Severus," he whispered, "what have they done to you?"

A claw-like hand seized his throat as his professor's face sharpened into a malevolent grimace. "Potterrrr," Snape growled, "just who in Merlin's name do you think you are dealing with?" Snape twisted, throwing the surprised Harry to the floor as he rolled on top.

"Prrrrr-ffessor?" Harry stuttered, green eyes wide with shock.

Snape's crooked teeth gleamed as he hissed, "I know they sssent you. I will not be a pawn in any more Minissstry machinationss! I swear to you, Potter, if I have to kill their preciousss sssavior, this time I will."

Harry struggled, pleading, "Look, I am here to help you! No! Let me... mmrrmmph!" A hand clamped over his face and he was twisted around again, his mouth gagged and hands bound. Snape climbed to his feet, dusted off his robes, and paced the length of the room.

 _It's as if he is a different man! Well, actually, the same man I knew in the war._ Snape's boots clicked purposefully on the stone floor and his robes swirled menacingly as he turned. Unable to see what Snape was doing, Harry soon heard the boot treads return, and he was hauled up by his bound arms and shackled against the wall.

He spit out the gag and blurted, "Snape! Let me go, seriously. I am not working for them! I think I know what they've been up to and...urumphph!" The gag was retied, uncomfortably tight now. His green eyes pleaded. But Snape looked back at him with a coldly dangerous gaze.

Severus paced away again, then returns and looks at Harry with a strange light in his eyes. He reached for Harry's throat and slowly unfastened his top shirt button.

 _Oh Merlin!_ Harry thought, kicking feebly in his panic. _What the fuck is he doing?_ With a low chuckle, Severus leaned his hip against the struggling young man, continuing his work. He paused, fastening Harry's ankles to the wall and returned to the patient loosening of button after button. When he pulled the shirttails free, he stood back, as if to admire his work.

Harry's face was flushed, hair hanging over his eyes, and his glasses askew. Severus reached and straightened them, almost tenderly smoothing the stray hair back. He then trailed a fingernail down his captive's cheek, throat, collar bone, and slowly circled a nipple.

Harry scrambled for a connection, a thread, some way to communicate. _If only he'd let me back into his mind,_ he pushed, frustration building along with his... erection?! Holy fuck, he was hardening, his cock rising to strain against his flies.

"Well, well." He heard a low, sardonic murmur. "What have we here, Mr. Potter?"

Still pushing through his skittering mind, finding no purchase on his own thoughts, much less his captor's, Harry squirmed, pleading with his eyes. _Please. No._ Snape palmed the growing bulge, pressing firmly. Without willing it, Potter pressed eagerly into the touch. _Oh, shit, what am I doing?_

"Yes, indeed. What ARE you doing Potter? Just what did you think you would accomplish, assaulting my mind in this fashion, you wretched tease?"

 _No, Professor, you don't understand! I didn't come here for ..._

"For what, Potter, for _this_?" Snape twisted his palm slowly and grasped the eager cock through the fabric. "Oh, I detect a definite interest. What a tasty little morsel are, Mr. Potter. I wonder, is this really why you are here?" He lowered the zip excruciatingly slowly. Click-click-click. Harry groaned, fearing he would come from anticipation alone.

His cock pressed the damp soft cotton pants through his flies. Snape freed him swiftly, yanking the clothing out of his way with a snarl. For an instant, Harry felt the chill air on his heated flesh, and watched in horror, but _yes, oh yes!_ anticipation, as Severus' dark head descended. _OMG those horrible teeth!_ he thought, unable to look away.

The velvet mouth enclosed him and he moaned, thrusting forward as much as his bonds would allow, surging into the warm mouth as if he wanted, oh yes he wanted, _oh, Merlin oh no oh yes oh my!_ Harry's bollocks tightened and a fierce wave rose up and through him as he pulsed violently into Snape's wicked mouth. He let go: of trying to understand, or resist, or communicate, or anything but feel. And it felt as if all of his magic were leaving him with each pulse, and his eyes fluttered closed.

***

The only thing he could see was grey. He felt sure that his eyes were open, but they did not seem to be functioning. His face was pressed against a cold, rough surface and something warm was running down his face. His shoulders ached so, and he sighed and stretched for relief, only to find his wrists banded in cold steel. As Harry wriggled against the wall, his head swam with confusion. He hurt all over, and he couldn't seem to pull his thoughts together. Hearing a rustling behind him, he attempted in vain to turn around. But the movement came to him, and a familiar voice rumbled near his ear, raising the fine hairs on the back of his neck.

"Well, well, Mr. Potter. Look what the Ministry's golden boy is up to now."

A leather-clad hand caressed his arse, one long finger sliding into his crack. All in an instant he felt a rush of memory of THAT touch, and he squirmed in panic, which doubled when he became keenly aware that he was stark naked and hard as the proverbial rock.

 _Do you have any idea, Potter, how long I have wanted to fuck you?_ The hand curved sinuously around one side of his backside, and squeezed, palming his muscular arse in a deep massaging motion, that almost hurt, but mostly seemed mostly to pump even more blood into his prick. Harry rubbed himself against the stone, unable to stop. The finger returned to his entrance, pressing, probing, teasing, then burrowing in through his protesting rim. He writhed, more with lust now than terror.

Then suddenly the gloved hand seized his bollocks with a fierce twist. As Harry opened his mouth to scream, he promptly fainted.

***

He awoke disoriented, lying naked but for a blanket in a dimly lit room, aching in every limb. He sat up too quickly and grew dizzy, the light swinging as if it were a shipboard lantern. He lurched awkwardly, and heard something shatter on the floor. He heard a rustling and drew his vision into focus. Snape. _Oh. God._ He trembled. Severus looked down at him calmly, and slowly sat down beside him.

"Are you alright, Potter?" he asked, voice so quiet Harry wasn't even sure he spoke aloud. Harry nodded, lip trembling, and Snape handed him a cup of tea. "Drink this."

Part of Harry's mind wanted to scream, flee, scramble away in fear. But the larger part was watching: watching Snape's face, watching his own mind swirl from Snape's memories back into his own, from calm to wild panic and back again. Grateful to have reacquired some perspective, he accepted the tea. _It may well be drugged, but it probably isn't poisoned._ He drank.

Feeling some small measure of clarity returning, he looked at Snape who sat with head bowed, face shadowed by limp hair. He stared, and listened to the sound of their breathing. He really was at a loss for words-- ideas as well as energy-- at that moment. He wondered what forces were really at work here. He knew the prison had extensive layers of charms and spells to dampen magic. And although the Dementors were purported to be gone, Harry could still taste something like them in the resident magic. He wondered why no guard had rushed to his aid. Maybe they really didn't have eavesdropping charms to monitor this prisoner. Maybe they wanted him to fail. And under all that, something stronger moved, sucking at his awareness, blurring his mind. Something deep in the prison itself.

After a time, Harry reached over and swept the inky hair away from that cruel face, softer now in shadow. This drew no response, so he grasped the bony chin, raised Severus's face level to his own, and looked intently into dark eyes. As Harry's mind calculated his options, he felt one part of him rise up with rage, itching to call the guards and see Snape thrown into shackles and tormented in repayment for the earlier assault. But Harry knew too well, he had already seen, what the Ministry could and would do. And he also knew, from the depth of his heart, that he wanted no more pain for this man.

Snape looked back at him, not blankly as during their first meeting, and not fiercely as in their heated encounter, but level, clear and calm. He was expecting retribution, Harry could tell. Snape just looked at him, not resisting the touch, or the gaze. Harry moved in with his mind, gently, holding aside his anger and keeping himself open. Snape tried to look away, but Harry restrained him with a small but sharp motion. _No. Stay with me._ He tilted Severus' face up and moved in closer. Nearly nose-to-nose, the black eyes tried to evade him once more, but then with a ragged sigh he let Harry in.

A flutter of emotion like feathers of tenderness swarmed around him, followed by a blast of soul-curdling regret that felt like acid on his nerves. Harry fought for stability in the seething web of Severus's experience. There was so much grief, and a twisted and strangled rage, stifled by hopelessness like a bottomless pit.

Rage welled up, but Harry realized it as his own, for all those who had abused this powerful wizard. Harry's mind flickered through his memories of Snape protecting him at school, even when he believed that his professor was evil. He then saw the Pensieve memories Snape had given him at death's edge in that dreadful shack. Harry felt Severus tremble. He held the man's face between both hands now, and realized they were sharing this experience, image by image. Severus recognized the memories he had given to Harry, and now they lived them together, they belonged to both of them.

Harry pulled back into his own mind, gently. He did not remove his hands, but his touch grew tender as he cradled Severus' face. Snape held his gaze even though Harry could feel the man's urge to look away, to curl in shame. But he did not. Harry beamed more energy into his hands, and through his eyes. He watched as a tear escape to roll down Snape's sallow cheek.

He leaned forward, touched their foreheads together, and closed his eyes.

 _I don't know what's going on here, Severus, but it's not at all good, and I swear to you, I will get you out of here, if it is the last thing I ever do._

***

 _....to be continued._


End file.
